


Her Good Professor

by Royal_Darjeeling



Category: Edgar Allan Poe's Murder Mystery Dinner Party (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Trying to pass time in self isolation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23243602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal_Darjeeling/pseuds/Royal_Darjeeling
Summary: Lenore has a question about her good professor.Or, Lenore is curious as to why her good professor isso good.
Relationships: HG Wells/Lenore
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Her Good Professor

**Author's Note:**

> Please bear witness to my self-isolation madness. 
> 
> Here is a head canon of mine. 
> 
> This might become a series of one-shots depending on how long this quarantine lasts........

H.G. Wells was a very attentive lover.

_Very Attentive._

Lenore had no complaints - none, zero, _zilch_. There was something about him, a quiet confidence that she was not expecting but she certainly wasn't complaining. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing - his lips knew just where to target, the perfect pressure and his fingers - _his fingers_...

The moment their relationship crossed into that realm, Lenore knew there could be no going back. She wouldn't let him.

Lenore was beginning to find it very easy to pass each day in his bed (or wherever they ended up: the attic, the study, the kitchen - _only once_ ), she'd spend weeks there if she had her way, but H.G. was always adamant about spending time tinkering away at his machines (though she quickly figured the best way to distract him).

Lenore never thought twice about her lover's talents, it was hard to think of anything other than him when he was paying her any attention, but that all changed with a moment alone with Oscar and now she couldn't stop thinking about it.

________

_After much persuasion, Edgar had finally caved and allowed Lenore and Annabel to host another party in his dusty old house. It had been nice to get everyone, both alive and dead, back in the same room again, albeit a little awkward at first, but everything had become easy once the wine had begun to flow._

_Naturally, many questions were directed towards the relationship between her and H.G. Collectively they had decided that the obvious but very formal romance between Edgar and Annabel did not need any probing, but her and H.G. on the other hand...well, they certainly were enjoying teasing them. H.G. had blushed profusely at their onslaught of inappropriate questions, while Lenore had rolled her eyes, glaring at each one of them if they took it a step too far._

_They had planned for this prior to they party, they had predicted the questions that were bound to come their way the moment their friends saw them acting so loved up (because Lenore simply couldn't stay away from him). In fact, it had only taken one stray hand - his, to be exact, on the small of her back - to spur on the attack that was destined to come. They agreed before hand to answer everything, that it was better to get things out of the way in one go and shorten the torture._

_(Yes, they were together now; no, Lenore hadn't talked him into it; yes, they loved each other; no, it hadn't taken them ages to get together, in fact they had been drawn to each other from the moment he had returned.)_

_The answers had been enough for their friends and quickly they turned their attentions elsewhere but Lenore still felt like she was on show, like every interaction between the two of them was being closely watched. Evidently, from the quiet comments she had continued to receive throughout the night, her relationship had not strayed far from their minds._

_There was one conversation in particular that had sent her mind racing. One comment that had made her begin to question everything about her lover._

_"You poor thing, he won't have a cluuuuue what he's doing," Oscar sighed with a flourish of his hand as they observed the room together, standing on the outskirts as their friends mingled._

_"Hmm?" Lenore replied absentmindedly, her eyes following H.G. and his clearly uncomfortable conversation with Ernest. The drunk had an arm slung around his shoulders, an unlit cigarette in one hand and a flask in the other, and was whispering something fast into his ear that was turning her dear professor a bright shade of pink._

_"Are you even listen-god you can’t keep your eyes off of him, can you?" Oscar pursed his lips in annoyance, his words finally drawing her attentions towards him. "I was saying that its unfortunate that he has to be a blundering maiden, although clearly that hasn't seemed to phase you."_

_Lenore's eyebrows drew together in confusion, "I don't follow?"_

_Oscar huffed once more, "Well, to put it plainly since you are clearly so in love with him you cannot think straight: it's a shame that he's such a virrrrrgin and that you're going to have to teach him a thing or two."_

_Oscar's comment had stumped her. His observations were far from the truth and yet, she understood why he had them. Oscar patted her shoulder with a pathetic 'there, there' as she mulled over his thought, her mind spiralling down an untravelled path, questioning everything about their relationship. Her friend was onto something, there certainly was something peculiar about H.G.'s talents, especially how he had them from the moment he first touched her..._

_"No, H.G. is totes great in that department." Lenore said wearily, half wanting to stand up for H.G. and half wishing to talk through her own train of thought._

_As dramatically as ever, Oscar gasped, clasping his chest. "You mean to say your good professor is, well, good?"_

_Lenore nodded and a look of understanding went between them._

_"Well how did that happen?" Oscar whipped his head around to watch the now scared looking H.G., his eyes darting round the room as Ernest continued to ramble on at him. "You don't think? Surely not..."_

_Her mind was wild, she had never thought about it before but it did make sense. Had H.G. been with others before her? She never thought it was a possibility but now she thought about it, it did make sense. He was good, really good, like mind melting good, surely he must have had some practise before hand? Someone must have taught him? Although, she supposed she never had much experience in that area herself, she did die before her wedding night after all and, despite all her sass, she certainly was a lady. Perhaps she was simply impressed by him as she had nothing else to compare it to?_

_Lenore did plan on asking him that night, she did - truly. But then she was reminded how much she loved H.G. after a glass of wine, how somehow he became more adorable, and, most importantly, how the wine made him even more daring._

__________

The question had been on her mind ever since. Playing on loop, over and over again until it got to the stage where Lenore could not look at him without thinking it. It was consuming her, and was even beginning to spill out into her actions. She was getting short with Annabel, she began to completely ignore Edgar, and H.G., well, she had decided the best way to test her suspicions was to give herself even more evidence. 

She had decided on Oscar's theory being true, he was just too good for it to be otherwise. Her professor was great, but every scholar must learn from somewhere, it didn't just come naturally and without work. Besides, she liked his dorkiness, the way his eyes concentrated on his machines, his hands - _his hands_ , surely the girls back in London would have too? It was beginning to seem impossible to Lenore that only she could see his attractiveness, and she knew him too well to know that a little attention from a hot girl could turn his head - she did it very regularly. Still, he was rather timid...

Lenore wasn't sure what had come over her. For days she thought about the matter, coming up with various illustrative scenarios in her mind. She supposed it was jealously, an overwhelming possessiveness of him, that he was hers and only hers, yet at the same time she didn't seem to care if he had been with other people. In a way it only made her affections stronger, that he had chosen her, he was spending forever with her. It was inexplicable, contradictory, and it was driving her mad.

Yet, she was too afraid to ask him about it. H.G. was, after all, basically a newborn deer when he wasn't touching her, bashful and meek. She knew it would make him uncomfortable, make him squirm (and not in the good way she enjoyed). Quite frankly, she didn't even know how to approach the situation herself. It was uncharted waters even for someone as forward as her, and she just knew it was inappropriate (like totally inappropriate). Still, if they were going to be together forever (as he had mumbled into her ear numerous times) then undoubtably she should know these things, shouldn't she?

After days of avoiding the subject, Lenore knew she couldn’t spend eternity dancing around him. No, it would be much better for the both of them if she confronted the matter head on. So, one morning after an hour or so of styling her hair in new ways in front of her vanity, Lenore rose out of her seat in pursuit of him.

H.G. was always easy to find if he was at home, rotating constantly between only a handful of rooms depending on his mood and Lenore had learnt to predict his whereabouts just days after his arrival (it was almost a completely different matter if he was off on his travels, however...). His room, her room, the attic, the study and the smoking room were the only rooms he lingered in, and each had their own merits to him that Lenore was aware of yet she didn’t really understand their draws. The attic she got, it was her jam after all, their rooms were obvious, she got that too but the study? The smoking room? Lenore avoided those spaces as much as she could (she hoped that was not why he liked them so much).

H.G. would go to the study to socialise with Edgar, to pick a book or to write correspondence. The room had its charms but overall Lenore considered it dull. It was, however, miles better than the smoking room which she detested more than anything. Perhaps it was her upbringing that steered her away from the traditionally manly room, or perhaps she did not like the dreary colour scheme that seemed more Edgar-like than Edgar himself, yet either way she hated the room with a passion and she knew that was exactly where he would be.

Earlier, as he was pacing around his room as she laid, half awake in his bed trying desperately to fall back asleep, he mentioned that he was going to have a ‘quiet day’ and give himself a break from his tinkering. She paid little attention to him at the time, waving him off as she snuggled in closer to the warmth but she had listened, and Lenore knew the best place for him to go for peace was the smoking room that even Edgar didn’t like to enter (there was no desk for him to write his mopey poetry at - _yawn_ ).

As predicted, she found him there when she passed through its thick door, her eyes having to adjust to the dimness of the room before she spotted him. He had lit the fire and was curled up into the arm of the low green leather couch that was situated close by, and from the looks of it he was deeply absorbed in a book. He did not notice her enter the room, nor did he react when she walked towards him, her breath quickening at the upcoming uncomfortableness.

Lenore let out her worries with a deep breath, finally receiving a reaction from her target as he turned his head to look over his shoulder at her. He gave he a steady smile, and as if by magic all her thoughts seemed to melt away.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he turned his attention back to his book, leaning down to press her cheek against his and soaked in the feeling of having him close. Like clockwork, his hand rose to meet her wrist, holding her there, his hand warm from the heat of the fire. She would happily stay there wrapped around him, perhaps even make use of the long couch and lack of interruption (no one did go in that room after all - why had they not tried it before?) but she knew she had to say something, it'll haunt her if not.

" _War and Peace_?" Lenore referenced the book in his hands, finally gathering enough determination to speak.

"Well I never could get through it when I was alive, I thought I should give it a try now that I'm dead." H.G. let out a mischievous giggle, proud at his own dismissal of Tolstoy's work - evidently her shadiness had begun to rub off on him.

Pecking his forehead swiftly, Lenore hopped round to the other side of the couch, sinking down next to him as she thought of ways to breach the subject. Without taking his eyes off his book, H.G. pulled at her hand, intwining their fingers together on top of his crossed legs. Lenore tried to concentrate on the feeling of his fingers, on the comfort it gave her and the simpleness of his movements but it didn't appear to be of any use. 

Instead, Lenore took to watching him read. Noticing every flicker of the eyes, every slight twitch. She saw the light purple mark poking out from under his collar, a reminder of herself seared upon his skin, revealing just what they had been up to the night before. She wondered what he was thinking, whether he was absorbed in the story or pondering something else, whether he was thinking of her just like she was thinking of him. It was rather odd really, how much she thought about him, thought about any other person other than herself - it was like he was a part of her now, and it had all come about so quickly.

"You're staring." H.G. mumbled, not tearing his eyes from the page. "What's wrong?"

His fingers squeezed hers reassuringly. Lenore's eyes darted from his face, focusing on the fire as she found herself questioning her reasoning for being there. He wouldn't get angry at her? Lenore couldn't imagine H.G. getting angry at all. But then surely he will find it uncomfortable? It will totally ruining everything for sure. _God_ why had she let Oscar get into her head like this? It was so unlike her.

Lenore's eyes drew wide in panic as she went deeper into her thoughts and a sudden urge to flee the room came over her. She almost would have given into it too, if it wasn't for the movement besides her and H.G.'s voice penetrating the awkward silence once again.

"My dear...Whatever's the matter?" 

Lenore whipped her head to meet him with a sigh. _War and Peace_ had been forgotten, discarded beside him, and in its place H.G. had drawn his focus completely on her (he always made her shiver when he looked at her like that). He was getting anxious, she could tell from the way his fingers had become restless upon her hand.

"You're going to think I'm being sooo stupid." Lenore grimaced as she sunk further into the couch, hoping it would swallow her whole.

"Try me."

She supposed it always was better to get things over and done with.

With a deep breath, Lenore let him have it all, her eyes unable to meet his gaze. "It was just something Oscar said to me and it got me thinking and really I shouldn't have been thinking it but I did and now I can't stop thinking of it because I think he might have been right but sometimes I don't and its just soo annoying that I can't - have you been with anyone else?"

It was more of a ramble, but she had managed it. Finally she struck up the nerve to glance over at him, only to find H.G. staring at her in confusion. 

"Well, I was speaking with Edgar earlier?" He mumbled, his eyebrow raising, questioning her onslaught of words.

"No, no." Lenore shook her head with a grin, of course she was going to have to spell it out for him. For such a smart person he had a tendency for being very stupid at times. "I mean, have you, _you know_?"

"Lenore, darling," he blinked at her almost amusedly. "I haven't a clue what you are alluding to."

Lenore let our a groan followed swiftly by her signature eye roll (this really was like plucking teeth). "God H.G., I mean have you slept with anyone else?" 

She couldn't help but smirk at H.G.'s comical reaction. Almost instantaneously a flummoxed look came over him and his cheeks very quickly turned a shade of red that Lenore had never seen on him before nor thought was even possible. For a moment all H.G. could do was gawp at her, his eyes blinking rapidly, as he desperately searched for something to say.

"Wh-what?" Was all he could manage when he finally got up the courage. 

If she wasn't feeling an overwhelming sense of trepidation at the conversation Lenore was certain she would have laughed at his poor face. The good professor was well and truly flustered, his mouth opening and closing as he circled through words in his mind, and despite his ghostly state, Lenore swore she had begun to feel sweat upon his palm.

Then, as if he suddenly thought of something to say H.G. started stammering, and all of a sudden it was his time to ramble.

"I'm not seeing any one else... I'd never do that, besides I barely leave the house unless I'm on my travels... If I was going to do it, which I wouldn't even think of, I certainly wouldn't do it under your nose... And do you understand how complicated it will make things if I time travel and do - do _that_... w-why would Oscar say that?" H.G. spoke as if he was a motor, a hand grasping at the back of his neck like a mad man.

His hysterics were enough to relax her, and a silent chuckle began to run through her body at his panic. Of course her good professor still wouldn't understand her meaning...

"I meant _before_ me, silly." Lenore laid her free hand on his leg, giving it a teasing squeeze.

H.G.'s eyes grew wide as his movements seized. "Oh. Um."

Lenore gasped as her face lit up. Well, she certainly wasn't expecting that...

"H.G. Wells, well I never." She teased, shaking their joined hands jovially. "Bet those London girls couldn't keep their hands off of you."

"Lenore, I was a bachelor in every sense of the word when I met you..." Her professor blushed, still unable to reach her eyes.

"I feel like there is a but coming..." Her eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"But, there was someone, two people actually, that -" 

"- No, please don't tell me any more, I shouldn't have asked, totally inappropriate." She cut him off, suddenly sensitive that this was way more than she should know.

"I don't mind, I know your story, it seems right that you know mine." H.G. exhaled, his head dropping to the back of the couch, his eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. "There was two ladies I was involved with, and I may have been foolish enough to think I could see them both at the same time."

The plot thickened. She certainly wasn't expecting that either. H.G. Wells courting two women at once was not something she ever thought could happen. Strangely, the revelation did not lower her opinions on him, if anything it only intrigued her.

H.G. Wells... who'd have thought it.

"Oh H.G." Lenore groaned at the scandalous news.

"I thought I was in love with one, I know I wasn't now I've met you." His eyebrows flew up his forehead as he finally moved to look at her, his hand leaving hers as he began to gesture uncontrollably. The whole sight was rather comical. "But that was quickly stopped and I couldn't figure out a way to get out of the relationship... I think we stayed together because it was familiar, she, um, she wanted to marry but I never did... I knew it wasn't right. The other... well the other was just very attractive and very forward but very clearly after my money."

She had the widest grin on her face as she absorbed the story, not expecting any of it but believing every word. _Oh the scandal_. And all this from H.G. Not one girlfriend but two? And at the same time? She already couldn't wait to tell Oscar.

"What happened?" She prompted, moving closer to him with excitement in her eyes.

"Isobel found out." H.G. swallowed, evidently not sharing her excitement. "She was erm, the first one... She threatened to go to the papers, that it would completely destroy my career."

"What did you do?" Lenore somehow managed to speak through her wide grin - she was enjoying this way too much.

"I packed a bag and ran off to France. I stayed with Jules Verne and decided that I didn't like either of them." Finally, H.G. let out a small giggle, his hands rubbing his face bashfully.

Lenore laughed at him fully, no longer caring that the situation was rather embarrassing and from the shy smile he sent her way from under his hands, H.G. was beginning to come round to her way of thinking. 

The two continued to laugh until H.G.'s hands had fallen from his face, and the air in the room finally returned to its relaxed atmosphere.

"My, my. Aren't you quite the cat about town." Lenore teased as she cozied on up to him, her hand finding his on his lap as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"I'm quite ashamed of that situation." She heard him mutter besides her, the disappointment in himself was clear.

It shocked her that she did not care about his actions (well, not much). She knew H.G. well enough by now to know his character, and there was no way on earth that H.G. would have sought after that situation. If anything, all Lenore wanted to do was forget that H.G. had a past. Those girls, that Isobel, she was certainly prettier than them both and a much better person for sure... they were most definitely both terrible, ugly girls with no fashion sense that were not worth getting jealous over (...which Lenore totally wasn’t doing).

"I want to take your time machine and go poke their eyes out." She smirked, playing with his fingers. "Actually, I should be thanking them, they taught you all your tricks."

"Oh, on the contrary, I only ever kissed them."

In surprise, Lenore turned to look up at him, her eyes wide once more. "Then...how?"

H.G. looked smug, like he was hiding a secret. Lenore was unsure whether she was annoyed or turned on.

"H.G." She shoved him.

"Oh I'm afraid that truth is really rather embarrassing." He continued to smirk, feeling rather proud of himself that she found him so talented.

While a cocky H.G. was not one she saw often, she certainly knew how to deal with him and without missing a beat, Lenore began to pull away from him. "Okay then, _Herbert_. I'm just going to leave you alone for like a week. Don't mind m-"

She was cut off by him tugging her back to his side.

"I studied it, when I was an apprentice." Once he realised the creepiness of his words, H.G. promptly continued. "All of us used to do it."

He had told her about his past experience before, of his time as an apprentice draper, of the mischief he used to get up to with the other boys. His childhood was part of his past he spoke to her about regularly, and each and every time he lit up at the thought. Despite all his struggles (his broken leg, his family's finances...) H.G. loved to talk about his past, but after he hit eighteen, however, Lenore knew little of. She knew about his jobs, of his teaching, of his inventions, but anything to do with his private life was revealed all too little for her liking. Her boyfriend was a bit of a mystery, and evidently there was still a lot for her to learn.

"So you read about it in a book and told all your buddies like a bunch of horny teenagers?" Lenore looked disgusted but she wasn't (well, only sightly).

She didn't want to think of what those boys got up to - what her H.G. got up to. Everyone was curious, she herself had looked through all the magazines she could find, but she definitely did not want to think about him and his friends doing it.

"I _was_ a teenager." He groaned, a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. He knew she was teasing, yet that did not stop his embarrassment.

"Are you telling me that you can do all that you do because some seventeen year old told you about it one time as you all read romance novels?" Lenore gave him a once over, not quite sure what she should think about the situation.

H.G. looked sheepish. Her eyes making him hot under the collar.

Knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him, Lenore grasped his arm, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Were there any good bits? I bet some of the books were scandalous. Oh my dear professor, how naughty you were."

" _Lenore_." His head fell back against the back of the couch once more, his eyebrows creasing together.

The torture was not to stop there though, oh no - not if she could help it.

"Perhaps you could tell me some of your preferred books, I want to see what all these boys were fussing over." Lenore continued, enjoying watching him squirm. He would never live it down. “Oh! I’m totally up for trying some of them out if you are!”

"You are insufferable." He shook his head, holding back a smile.

Oh she did love teasing him. Too much, it was rather cruel.

"God, never stop being so damn adorable." With a chuckle, Lenore leant forward to peck his lips before rising from the couch. All her prior concerns over the conversation had completely disappeared. "It's red herring soup again for dinner... and then afterwards we can read each other dirty books and exchange tips on how to woo the ladies."

H.G. groaned once more and with that she left the room, shaking her head at what she had just heard. Her good professor - a total player, and reading romance novels as a child. She could not believe it. Well she could, she did find H.G. rather attractive after all but two girls - _at the same time_? The man who hid away in a dark corner of the house had the trouble of figuring out how to handle two women at once? Then to top it all off he liked to read romance novels with his friends... Oh, she certainly would never let him live this down. This was precisely what she was after, and then some. Lenore considered it a very - no, _extremely -_ successful mission.

She supposed it always was the quiet ones...

**Author's Note:**

> H.G. being a ladykiller is actually factual... I may have just skipped over the whole cousin-marriage and numerous affairs though - artistic licensing!


End file.
